I made him wear a helmet. I don't care; there will be no skull fracture if I can help it.
We bought him one of those push bicycles but he wouldn't pedal. We tried everything. He liked tricycles at other people's homes but outgrew them before we could purchase one.
We bought him a bike with training wheels. He outgrew it.
We bought him a larger bike with training wheels, but when we took the training wheels off, he still couldn't do it.
It all has to do with upper body weakness and low muscle tone. I read that's part of my son's diagnosis. What that has to do with autism or asperger's syndrome, I'll never know.
We gave up on it or rather, we let it go. My husband and I had tried our best and if he couldn't ride a bike, so be it. There are so many more worse things in life than that.
But that sunny afternoon, my husband called me from our side door and let the screen slam shut. I hate that noise and so does he, so I ran out; my husband does not let a screen door slam for nothing.
I walked to our front sidewalk and there he was. In fifth grade, yes, but riding without training wheels and beaming.
How many prayers had gone up for that small childhood milestone. My husband and I watched him pedal past us and felt a couple of fears lift off our shoulders and vanish.